Chapter 161; The door may open
His jaw tightened, but his tone remained calm, too calm. "You mistake necessity for cruelty. I am the only anchor she has left. If I let go, if I send her where you suggest..." His eyes flicked briefly toward Yueyao, still seated on the sofa, humming softly to Yueqin as if in her own world. "She would drown in the weight of what she cannot face."
Fang Lin’s breath caught. "Or perhaps," she whispered fiercely, "you are too afraid that if she remembers the truth, she won’t choose you."
That pierced him. The faintest flicker cracked his mask, a fleeting storm in his gaze before it smoothed again.
"Be careful, Lin Lin," he said at last, his tone quiet but razor-sharp. "There are truths more dangerous than lies. And if you insist on shaking her world... the pieces may cut you before they cut me."
The air between them throbbed with an unspoken threat, and Fang Lin felt her blood run cold. Yet before she could reply, Yueyao’s voice floated across the room, soft and curious.
"Lin Lin? Shuren? What are you two whispering about?"
Both of them turned, and for the first time, Fang Lin realized just how fragile the line was.... one wrong word, one misplaced truth, and the dream Yueyao clung to might collapse in their hands.
Fang Lin froze, her throat tightening, but Jin Shuren was quicker. His expression softened instantly, transforming into something smooth and practiced, the kind of calm Yueyao had gotten accustomed to.
"Nothing serious, my dear," he said, his voice warm as he turned toward his wife. "Fang Lin was just asking me about some work matters, that’s all. Nothing for you to worry about."
Fang Lin forced herself to nod, plastering on a strained smile. "Yes, just boring things about the company," she added quickly, though her heart pounded at the lie.
Yueyao’s eyes lingered on them for a moment, searching, before she relaxed back against the sofa, brushing her lips across Yueqin’s hair as though the question had never been asked.
The silence that followed felt brittle.
Then, with deliberate calmness, Jin Shuren picked up his phone from the desk. He didn’t look at Fang Lin as he dialed, but the weight of his intent pressed against her like a stone. A few rings later, a man’s voice answered. It was steady and professional.
"Shuren," the man greeted.
"Do you have a moment?" Jin Shuren asked, his tone measured. He pressed the loudspeaker button before Fang Lin could protest, letting the voice carry clearly across the polished desk.
"Of course," the man replied. "Is this about Yueyao again?"
Fang Lin stiffened, her breath catching at the easy familiarity in the man’s tone.
"Yes," Jin Shuren said quietly, his eyes never leaving Fang Lin’s face. "My niece, Fang Lin is here. She doubts what I have told her about Yueyao’s health condition. Perhaps you can explain it to her."
There was a pause on the line, then the psychologist spoke with grave precision.
"Miss Fang, I understand your concern. But let me be perfectly clear: in her current state, Yueyao’s fractured memories are like glass. Push her to face the wrong truth too quickly, and the shock can either break her mind completely... or cause it to shut down. Do you understand? She could lose her grasp on reality altogether, beyond repair."
Fang Lin’s breath stuttered, her eyes darting involuntarily toward her best friend, still rocking her daughter with that fragile smile.
The voice continued, calm but firm. "Handled properly, she can live peacefully within this framework her mind has created. Mishandled... and you risk turning her into a hollow shell, or worse, a woman lost to madness."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Jin Shuren’s gaze bore into Fang Lin, quiet but unyielding, as if to say: Now you understand why I do what I do.
Fang Lin’s nails dug into her palm, leaving half-moon crescents in her skin. The explanation was clinical, rational, and terrifying, her Uncle had the capabilities of getting her experienced and renowned doctors.
Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. She took a step closer to the phone, lowering her voice to a whisper, "Doctor, there’s that method they say works, hypnosis, can’t it work on her?" Fang Lin was hoping that her friend would get well.
On the other end of the line, the doctor hesitated. When he spoke again, his tone was heavier, the kind reserved for truths that hurt more than lies.
"Hypnosis," he repeated slowly. "In ordinary cases, yes... it can sometimes help recover what the conscious mind has buried. But Yueyao’s condition is not ordinary. Her fractures are deep, tangled around heavy trauma, in her body, she already has residues of psychotic drugs and marijuana. To force memory back through hypnosis would be like forcing open a locked door with brittle hinges." His voice dropped, quiet, severe. "The door may open... but it may also break beyond repair."
Fang Lin’s throat constricted, but she pressed on, desperation bleeding through her words. "But if it works, if it helps her remember...."
"Then she could be free, and back to herself," the psychologist finished for her, the faintest sigh in his voice. "Yes, Miss Fang. But the risk is not merely a simple failure, and in her condition, the success rate is just in the minus, and there’s no need to even try. The shock could push her into psychosis, or leave her unresponsive, mind completely withdrawn. Do you understand? Hypnosis is not a rope to pull her back. It is a blade. It may cut through the knots, or it may cut her down."
The words sliced through Fang Lin, leaving her reeling. She turned her gaze toward Yueyao, who was smiling faintly at nothing, humming an old tune that didn’t quite match the rhythm. Yueqin’s tiny hand tugged at her mother’s sleeve, anchoring her to the present in a way that words never could.
"Ah-Lin,"